


You'll Never Be Friends

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 9,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valentine's Day ficlets for every canonical couple, one kind-of canonical couple, and a few friendships in the Buffyverse. Tags and stories will be updated daily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Buffy/Angel (Smoothies)

**Author's Note:**

> Each oneshot is set on the day it was posted, so this one is February 1st.

“Smoothies!” Buffy gasped. “You never told me you knew how to cook!”

Angel gave her a small, embarrassed smile, ducking his head as he handed her the smoothie. “I don’t know if mixing up fruits counts as cooking,” he replied a little self-deprecatingly, “but—”

Buffy beamed at him, taking a sip of her smoothie. She closed her eyes, her smile becoming more contented than joyful. “Mmm,” she sighed. “You know how bad my day’s been today?”

“Pretty bad?” Angel asked.

“ _Super_ pretty bad,” Buffy replied, opening her eyes and making a face at him. “There was an incident in gym, with this annoying little junior who thought he was so tough, and,” here she looked up at him sheepishly, “I mean, we were doing martial arts, and so I asked to get partnered with him…” She trailed off. “Giles is really mad at me,” she sighed. “Something about _using my Slayer powers for good, not for ego boosts._ I know he’ll get over it, but I just don’t like it when he’s mad.”

“I have potato chips,” Angel informed her, nodding toward the coffee table and the bowl of assorted snacks. “Do you want to watch some TV?”

“Yes _please,_ ” Buffy eagerly agreed. “Have I mentioned that I love you?”

Angel’s mouth quirked up in a smile as he sat down on the sofa, Buffy cuddling in next to him. “Yeah,” he replied, “but it’s still nice to hear.” He picked up the remote and hit the on button. The television turned on, and there was a brief glimpse of a perky newscaster before the image became staticky.

“Not again,” Angel groaned.

“Hey, you’re the one who thinks hitting the TV is a perfectly okay way to fix it,” Buffy quipped.

“I’m not the one actually hitting it, Buffy,” Angel pointed out.

“Yeah, because you’re the one standing by and letting _me_ hit it!” Buffy playfully retorted, whacking his arm. He could tell she meant for it to be light and playful, but it actually kind of hurt. For her sake, though, he pretended it didn’t. Buffy got really worried when she accidentally hurt him. “And I’ve probably broken it with all of my hitting, so it’s your poor judgment that got us into this situation, mister.”

Angel sighed. “It might just be the cable. It’s been on the fritz for a while, and it’s not like I can call in a repairman.”

“Why not?” Buffy asked, sounding honestly surprised.

“No steady income?”

“Oh.” Buffy looked embarrassed. “Right. So do you have any DVDs?”

“Um,” said Angel uncomfortably. “See, the thing is—”

“What?” Buffy shifted to look at him. Then, blushing, she asked, “Is it, uh…” She sat up, letting go of Angel, and started fiddling with the hem of her shirt sleeve. “Vampire porn?”

“What? No!” Angel wasn’t sure whether to start laughing or be embarrassed. “No, it’s…just that the only DVDs here are from when Spike and Drusilla and I were all watching movies together, and Dru had a thing about romantic comedies, so we have a lot of stuff like that.”

“Well, you could have just said,” Buffy muttered, blush deepening. “Can you go get one?”

Angel stood up and hurried to his bedroom, taking out _When Harry Met Sally._ He had no intention of telling her that Spike, Dru, and Angelus all had a gorier taste in flicks, or that he’d bought his rom-coms a few weeks ago. Buffy would tell Willow, and Willow would inevitably tell Xander, and then he’d never hear the end of it.

Buffy had finished her smoothie when he came back, and had found a blanket to snuggle under. “C’mere,” she said, sticking out a hand and wiggling her fingers. “Come on. Let’s watch some sappy romance.”

After putting the DVD in, he sat down next to her, and she tossed some of the blanket over him before moving to cuddle into him again. He took the snack bowl off of the coffee table and put it on his lap in an effort to put it in a place where Buffy could easily reach it.

“Hey, no,” Buffy objected, and moved the popcorn bowl back over to the coffee table. “You do that and I’m gonna be worried about getting all cuddly. Remember? I was eating apple pie and I put it on your lap and then I knocked it over?”

“Good point,” Angel agreed, switching on the television and putting his arm around Buffy.


	2. Willow & Xander (Dorky Dancing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided to include a few platonic friendships, because I don't think Valentine's Day should be exclusively about romantic love, but I'm still writing every couple I can.

Giles had cleared out the Magic Box floor, moving the tables to the side, because a demon had decided to crash through the roof and the repair guys were going to have to come in a few hours from now. He’d told Willow and Xander to stay in the shop and wait for the repair guys, because he was very busy and had some prior obligations. He’d refused to answer their questions on the nature of those obligations, so Willow and Xander were speculating on what they might be.

“He could have a hot date,” Xander suggested.

“With who?” Willow replied, honestly surprised. “Not that Giles isn’t a catch—”

“He really isn’t,” Xander commented.

“—but he hasn’t been dating since that thing with Olivia. Maybe he’s got some studying to do.”

“Couldn’t he do it _here?_ ” Xander pointed out. “In the _shop?_ Where he keeps all of his books?”

Willow frowned. “I see what you mean.”

“And if it was a hot date, he wouldn’t want to tell us. I think my theory is right.” Xander looked extremely proud of himself. “At least Anya’s up front about her reasons. She wanted to stay home and work on finances.”

Willow looked down at her hands to avoid rolling her eyes.

“So!” Xander stood up. “It’s the month of love, we’re alone in the Magic Box, and there isn’t anyone coming in for at least a few hours. I’d say it’s pretty obvious what we have to do.”

Willow’s head jerked up involuntarily as she stared at Xander. “What?” she said, voice a little more high-pitched than normal. Then, “Xander, first of all—”

“Surprising as it may seem, I’m not talking about _that_ , Willow,” Xander said, grinning at her as if he’d been trying to elicit that exact reaction. Willow’s nervousness was replaced by slight irritation mingled with amusement—it was both frustrating and funny that he could still throw her off so easily. “I need to practice my dance moves. I promised Anya that I’d take her out dancing, and you’re the only person who I know will put up with me stepping all over your feet.”

Willow giggled. “Okay,” she agreed. “What kind of dancing are we trying out?”

Xander blinked. “Say what?”

“What kind of dancing?”

“Do I have to learn a special _kind?_ ” Xander asked, sounding more than slightly horrified. “Isn’t it that kind where you hold the girl’s waist—” He came over, placing a hand on Willow’s waist and taking her hand with his other hand. Willow was reminded of the last impromptu dance they shared, and it was strange that her feelings for him were so entirely platonic now. They’d seemed so strong and passionate in the moment, but then came Tara, and now kissing Xander was in the same category as kissing Buffy or Dawn.

“Well, I think there’s salsa, but I don’t know how to do that,” Willow replied. “And ballroom dancing. I bet Giles knows that,” she added.

“I’m not taking dancing lessons from Giles,” Xander told her flatly. “I have some dignity.” He stepped forward at the same time Willow did, and they nearly collided. “Sorry,” he sheepishly added.

“It’s good!” Willow encouraged him. “See, just follow my lead.”

“But what happens when I’m out with Anya and she wants to follow _my_ lead?” Xander asked.

“Anya never follows your lead,” Willow countered.

“Point taken.” Xander fell into step with Willow, fumbling slightly. “I was never good at this,” he complained. “Slow dances were easy because you just had to sway, but Cordy would always get angry at me for stepping all over her feet.”

“Ooh, we need music!” Willow gasped, and raised her hand from Xander’s shoulder to snap her fingers and incant, “ _Cantica._ ” A blues song began to play, not slow enough for a slow dance but not fast enough for vigorous, dramatic dancing.

“I know I’ve said it before, but Will, you are so cool,” Xander told her with a big grin, and actually managed to twirl her.

Willow shrieked in surprise and delight, bursting into giggles when she was back in his arms. “Smooth!” she laughed. “Anya’s going to fall all over you.”

Xander looked pleased. “Think I got it?” he asked.

“No, we should practice some more,” Willow replied. “It seems like you’re trying to avoid stepping on my feet, and that’s not the same thing as dancing.”

“I mean, it’s pretty close, given the way I dance,” Xander joked. Willow smiled.


	3. Giles & Joyce (Elephant in the Room)

“Well,” said Giles awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. “Er. How are you doing?”

“Good,” Joyce stiffly replied without lifting her eyes from her magazine. Summers women weren’t known for blushing, but he could detect a faint reddish tint to her cheeks. “Good. Um, I sold a few pieces to a wealthy patron recently.”

“That’s good,” said Giles.

The awkward silence continued.

“Mom?” Buffy called. “Where’s my machete?”

“You left it out on the dining room table again, sweetie, you’re going to just have to use the mace,” Joyce called back. “I don’t appreciate you leaving your weapons out where someone could get hurt.”

“Er, actually, Joyce, Buffy needs that for the demon we’re facing tonight,” Giles pointed out. Joyce looked up at him as if to respond, realized that she had inadvertently made eye contact with him, and immediately went back to feigning interest in her magazine.

“Yeah, see? Giles is on my side!” Buffy added, and there was the clatter of footsteps before she came into the room. “So where’d you leave it?”

“It’s in my bedroom,” Joyce answered, looking up at Buffy with a small smile and still avoiding looking at Giles. Buffy didn’t notice this, as she was too busy rushing back up the stairs.

“Wealthy patron, you said?” Giles continued, making another stab at conversation. They _were_ adults, after all. They could handle this…candy-induced encounter maturely and rationally.

“Yes, he was quite friendly,” Joyce responded. “Very complimentary of the art we had out on display.” She turned the page.

Giles steeled himself before deciding to address the elephant in the room. “Joyce,” he said. “I truly don’t want the events of months ago to permanently alter our friendship. You’re Buffy’s mother and I’m her Watcher, and it’s important that we remain on good terms.”

Except what actually came out of his mouth was, “So do you suppose we’ll be having any more snow? It still is winter, after all.”

_Bloody brilliant._

“Yes,” Joyce replied. “February. Valentine’s Day coming up.” She looked up, eyes suddenly wide and embarrassed. “Not that I was insinuating, you know—”

“Of course,” Giles agreed.

“Because I wasn’t.”

“Yes.”

The awkward silence resumed.

Buffy came in, wielding the machete cheerfully.

“Buffy, you aren’t to hold it like that,” said Giles, at the same time Joyce said, “Buffy, I don’t want you breaking something with that.”

“God, you guys are _awful,_ ” Buffy complained. “I’m the Slayer. Sharp things are part of the job description. Can’t you treat me like an adult?”

“You aren’t an adult _yet,_ ” Joyce reminded her.

“And your grip is off,” Giles added. “Hold it like that and you _will_ most likely break something.”

Buffy sighed. “I’m gonna head out to slay the demon,” she informed them. “I should be back in a few.”

“Be careful,” said Giles and Joyce in unison as she left the living room. Buffy didn’t reply to this, only shouting a “Love you!” over her shoulder as the front door swung shut.

“I can only imagine her rolling her eyes at us right now,” Joyce quipped.

“That, or she’s making that face she gets when I tell her she’s not doing something right,” Giles commented, shifting on the couch a little to face Joyce.

She put down the magazine. “Yes! With the eye roll _and_ the little sigh—”

“—and she crosses her arms—”

“Oh, right! I’d forgotten about the arm-crossing. I think she got that from me.” Giles laughed in response, and Joyce smiled, a little uncertain but still cheerful. “Although I’m not sure where she picked up all of the sarcasm. Or the puns,” she added.

“I’m sure Xander hasn’t helped with the punning,” Giles said. “That boy will make a joke out of the most horrific event.” He smiled fondly. “He keeps Buffy’s spirits up, I think.”

“He got his hand stuck in the pickle jar when he came over after school yesterday,” Joyce informed him. “And there were pickles still _in_ it, so I had to figure out how to get his hand out without ruining the pickles.”

“Are you truly that concerned about pickles?” Giles asked, half surprised and half teasing.

“Believe me, when you’re feeding a growing Vampire Slayer, every little bit of food in the house becomes worth a lot,” Joyce joked.

They chatted until Buffy came back.


	4. Buffy/Spike (Pretend)

Spike had this fantasy, a long time before Buffy died and the world fell apart, where she showed up early in February and they kissed in his bed like they were doing right now. And Buffy’s arms were draped around his neck, like they were right now.

He was more romantic than Buffy gave him credit for, though, because in his fantasy, she’d pull away every so often and tell him that she loved him. Sometimes the kisses were soft and gentle, not always hard and biting. Sometimes she’d just stop kissing him and rest her head on his chest and he’d stroke her hair.

But when Buffy pulled away, she was gasping for air, resting her forehead against his with kiss-swollen lips before going back in again. Now she was pulling at the buttons of his shirt, something that had been in his fantasy. The desperation. The passion.

There was no love there, though.

Spike had mocked Riley, once. Said that he would hate to be in his position, being with Buffy and knowing that her heart wasn’t with him. But honestly, he was jealous now, because at least Riley could pretend that Buffy loved him. Riley could hear her say it and say it back. Riley could hold Buffy in his arms and she wouldn’t pull away.

“Spike,” Buffy moaned. Lips on his neck, trailing down his bare chest. He’d wanted this so badly a year ago, before everything had gone to hell and Buffy had gone to heaven. A few years ago, this would have been enough, knowing that the real Buffy wanted him in his bed. It would have given him a sense of proud power, that the _Slayer_ of all people was hot for him, that he could dismiss her affections with a wave of his hand.

Not for the first time, he wished that he wasn’t in love with her. It could just be another fling like Harmony, someone who was good in bed but not worth being around in the morning. He’d made pancakes for Buffy once, in a stupid desire to spend the morning with her (and maybe actually have a chat about something that wasn’t sex or how awful he was), but she’d been gone when he went back to the bedroom.

He didn’t know how to even begin redeeming himself in her eyes. Was there any possible way?

Buffy pushed him back against the headboard before guiding his hands to the zipper of her leather jacket. The heated look in her eyes did serve to remind Spike that he had one up on both Angel and Riley—not like Captain Cardboard ever got to see the Slayer this turned on, and not like the Poofter could utilize it. He moved one of his hands to pull her into a kiss, and tried to lose himself in Buffy.

Kissing her, hands tangled in her hair, he could almost pretend.

But not quite.

* * *

 

And in the morning, just like always, she’d left before he could make her pancakes.


	5. Willow/Oz (Pinky Swear)

“I don’t like lemonade anymore,” Willow grumbled, a small pout on her face. “I mean, who even drinks lemonade in February? I think Mrs. Summers should update her beverage selection every so often.”

“You okay?” Oz asked her, beginning to wrap the bandage around her hand.

Willow’s pout faded as she gave Oz a grateful smile. “Uh huh,” she replied. “It just _stings_.”

“Maybe you should be a little more careful.” Oz took out some medical tape and fastened the bandage. “Buffy tends to put things back hastily.”

“It’s like one of those awful things where you don’t even know if it’s your life or some cliché piece of fiction,” Willow sighed. “The girl drops the glass pitcher of lemonade, the glass cuts her, and the lemonade splashes up and gets into her cut.” There was affection in her eyes as she gazed at Oz. “And then the amazing boyfriend plays doctor.”

“Always happy to help.” Oz leaned forward and kissed Willow’s forehead. “Think we should head back to the living room? Xander’s probably eaten most of the popcorn by now.”

“It’s nice in here,” Willow mused. “Quiet, no people, just us…” She reached out with her good hand and stroked Oz’s cheek. He smiled at her fondly. She leaned in.

“I’m not sure if your best friend’s kitchen is the most ideal place to start a kissing session,” Oz observed, moving away just enough to avoid the kiss but not enough to let Willow’s hand drop form his cheek. “Can I suggest a temporary postponement?”

“Aww, come on, Oz!” Willow protested playfully. “I’ve been injured! I need sustenance.”

“Hmm. You make a good point.” Oz leaned in and kissed her, a light peck that lasted only a few seconds before he pulled away. “I guarantee more later,” he told her.

“Pinky swear?” Willow held out her injured hand, realized that making a fist would probably hurt a _lot,_ and let her good hand drop from Oz’s cheek to hold up her pinky. Oz took her pinky with his and shook it with a seriousness that was ridiculously adorable.

It was his seriousness that she loved, because it was genuine without being stick-in-the-mud-y. If you were too serious, you ended up like Giles, and if you weren’t serious enough, you ended up like Xander. Both were definitely admirable guys who Willow had had a crush on at some point, but Oz was right in the middle, a perfect mix of both.

Except not, because Oz was _Oz._ She couldn’t say he was really like Xander _or_ Giles in any way. He wasn’t like anyone she’d ever met, and he liked _her._ It made Willow feel special and loved and happy to be with him, this special guy who she loved and who loved her.

He was currently pressing a kiss to the back of her injured hand. “Think we should clean up the blood now or later?” he asked, glancing down at the dots of blood and the shards of glass on the floor.

“We can get it now,” Willow suggested. “I wouldn’t want Buffy to get hurt or something.”

“Okay. Just stay there.” Oz gave her another kiss, this one on her cheek, and he got out a dustpan from one of the cabinets. Before Willow could protest (it would have been along the lines of _I don’t want you always cleaning up my messes_ or _I don’t need people to help me, I’m independent_ ), he added, “I don’t want you working near glass with a hurt hand.”

“You’re so chivalrous,” Willow informed him, and she probably sounded a little swoony, but she didn’t really care. She tended to be swoony around Oz a lot.


	6. Xander/Cordelia: Coconut Shampoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't post one yesterday, so I'm posting two today!

His shoulder was going numb. He probably shouldn’t have chosen to lean against the wall, but Cordelia wasn’t moving to shrug her arm off of his shoulder and it felt like one of those moments where if you drew attention to it, it would end. So Xander kept his mouth shut.

Cordelia wasn’t a very snuggly person by nature, which was actually one of the things Xander appreciated about her. Her non-snuggliness was emphasized by the fact that she wasn’t draping herself over him dramatically right now, just leaning into him a little. He could smell her coconut shampoo. What was it with girls and coconut shampoo? Not that Xander had much experience with the smell of girls’ hair (Willow’s didn’t really count, as she was his best friend, but it smelled lemony like dish soap), but according to most media, girls used liberal amounts of coconut shampoo.

He felt her move slightly, and at first he felt his stomach jump and then drop unpleasantly, because it seemed for a moment like she was moving away from him. Which was a strange reaction to have, because there was a difference between making out and just sitting in silence.

What did that mean, anyway? If he wanted her close all of a sudden? At the beginning of the year, he would have been okay with kissing Cordelia (even though he’d hated her, he still thought she was hot), but being in close proximity without actual making out wasn’t something that he’d even considered as potentially okay.

Xander thought about this moment, and imagined sitting with Cordelia and not having to worry about her pulling away. He could move every so often, and then she’d move back into her position and they’d go back to…maybe they’d be watching TV instead of just sitting on a couch in the student lounge. Some stupid reality show that they could both make fun of, with lots of vacuous people that made Cordelia look like Albert Einstein. And he could say that to her, and she would pretend to get pissed off, but she’d duck her head and use her hair as a curtain so that he wouldn’t see her smiling.

She had a nice smile. He hadn’t seen it before they’d started kissing in closets, and even now it was a very rare occurrence. Usually the closest he’d come to seeing it was her annoying self-satisfied smirk after she’d got a good jibe in.

Something he hadn’t known was that Cordelia (sometimes he almost called her Cordy, but it felt a little like a pet name and he wasn’t sure how she’d take that) was a real person and not just popular, vapid Queen C. It was weird that he wanted to get to know her, because he’d been so certain that he _had_ known her.

The most unnerving thing was that Xander didn’t mind that he was starting to actually like Cordelia. Months ago, weeks even, it would have been _oh god, something must be wrong with me, why would I like Cordelia, she’s annoying and blunt and stupid_ , but now it was just a fact. He liked Cordelia. That didn’t mean that he didn’t think she was annoying and blunt and stupid sometimes, because she _was,_ but it meant that he didn’t mind it as much as he’d used to.

Cordelia moved away. Disappointed, Xander sat up, his shoulder practically crying out in relief, and then Cordelia moved back into his side again, still looking straight ahead.

Xander wished he had a curtain of hair to hide his smile behind.


	7. Giles & Buffy (Sharing)

Giles had seen Jenny in the hallway the day before. She had been reading a rather large and ancient-looking book, struggling to hold it up as she maneuvered through the students. His heart had leapt up into his throat and he’d felt a conflicting mix of happy-sad, because she was always so beautiful but she looked so tired and upset, and he didn’t know anymore if Jenny Calendar was his vivacious, sweet girlfriend who he had the right to offer comfort to or someone he didn’t know in the slightest.

Buffy had seen Angel during a patrol that night. He’d been walking in the moonlight with Drusilla’s arm tucked into his, gesticulating flamboyantly, and she’d made a comment that had evoked a boisterous laugh from him that she didn’t recognize at all. Angel wasn’t boisterous laughter and waving hands, and she’d loved him for that.

They were researching in silence the next day, Giles thinking about the dark circles under Jenny’s eyes, Buffy thinking about the freedom in Angel’s smile. Neither of them broke the silence, but every so often, each would look up at the other a little furtively.

“How are you?” Buffy asked suddenly.

“Fine,” said Giles in a very unconvincing tone. Then, “You?”

“Okay,” Buffy replied, and reached across the table, awkwardly resting her hand on top of Giles’s. They weren’t one for hugs or hand-holding or things like that; this was probably the first time she’d reached out to him like this. It felt appropriate, though, and Giles didn’t brush her off or become flustered by the affection in the gesture.

He surprised Buffy by giving her a wan smile in return. “Thank you,” he murmured, and turned his hand over to briefly squeeze hers.

Buffy felt better. Not much—everything was too screwed up to feel significantly better just from a moment of compassion—but she did feel better. “Yeah,” she whispered back, and almost sniffled. “We’re gonna get through this, right?” she asked him, still in a quiet voice. It was silly, because there was no one in the library, but this felt like something that shouldn’t be talked about loudly. Besides which, if she talked any louder, she though she might cry at least a little.

Giles was quiet for a moment, and then he replied, “I know we will all be alive at the end of it. I have faith in my ability to protect you all, at least.”

Buffy wanted to ask him if he would protect Ms. Calendar even though she’d turned out to be a lying spy, but she knew it would hurt him that she’d asked and the answer would most likely hurt her right back. “I can protect us too,” she informed him. “It’s my job.”

“We can share for a while,” Giles quipped, and let go of her hand. Buffy smiled at him. Her smile felt a little wobbly, but she quickly hid the wobble by turning back to her books.


	8. Spike/Drusilla (Pretty Dress)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two again today. Turns out I'm not the best at the daily update thing...oh well. I think I should be able to get back into the hang of it tomorrow.

Drusilla was lying in bed, idly flipping through a blood-spattered fashion magazine. She'd found it in the purse of one of her victims, and loved looking at the pictures. She could read, of course-Spike became furious at anyone who insinuated that her insanity had made her unintelligent-but she preferred the pictures. The women were quite lovely, but Spike suspected that her interest was with their dresses.

"Spike?" she called.

"Yes, love?" Spike looked up at her, wiping some blood off his mouth. The half-dead man at his feet twitched and moaned. "Shut it," he added, aiming a kick at the man's stomach. "The lady's talking."

"I want a pretty dress." Drusilla held up the magazine for Spike to see. She'd opened it to a page of a woman in a floor-length dark red evening gown. "Like so."

"And a pretty dress you shall have," Spike replied without hesitation. It wasn't necessary to consider the ludicrousness of Dru's request (it was phrased as a demand, but it was more of a request than anything) before agreeing. If it was possible, he'd do it, if not, she'd most likely forget about it in a few weeks' time. He loved the smile on her face when he promised her what she wanted, and this particular request seemed fairly within reason. "Let me just finish this guy off, and we can go shopping. How's that?"

Drusilla beamed and put the magazine down. "We're going  _shopping,_ " she said in utter bliss. "I want to ride up front in the shopping cart."

The nice bit about being a vampire was being able to kill anyone who told you off for letting Dru do things like that. Spike had a date with a pretty girl and a guaranteed mall snack, and he couldn't help but grin back. "Where do you want to get your dress, love?" he asked.

"I want the store with all the mirrors," Drusilla replied, getting up off of the bed and walking over to him. "I can be a ghost in a dress." She twirled, skirt flying out, and uttered an almost comical ghostly wail. "Oooooh! Scary." She smiled up at Spike. "Aren't I scary?" she asked him, vamping out.

"Well," Spike smirked, vamping out himself, "I bet he thinks you're pretty scary." He kicked the guy at his feet again. "Want some?"

"My Spike is so generous," Drusilla sighed, and pulled him into a kiss. It was fairly brief, as the man on the floor tried to move again and reopened a wound Spike had inflicted earlier in the night.

Drusilla pulled away, inhaling the smell of blood.

"Go on, pet," Spike encouraged. "Get your strength up. We've got shopping to do tonight."


	9. Willow/Tara (Sweet and Wonderful)

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” Tara rolled onto her side, gazing over at her girlfriend. Willow was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, which was the first sign of trouble; usually Willow was cuddly and curled into Tara even in her sleep.

“You awake?” Willow asked. She sounded almost panicked.

“I am now.” Tara reached out, playing with the fabric of Willow’s pajama sleeve. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever worry?” Willow mumbled, voice slightly wobbly.

“’Bout what?” Tara was honestly bemused. It had been a regular night; lots of studying, a touch of magic, and some kissing before bed. Willow had fallen asleep smiling, and Tara had fallen asleep snuggled into Willow. She didn’t know why Willow was suddenly upset, but she did recognize that the middle of the night could evoke worries that seemed ridiculous in daylight. She moved closer to Willow and rubbed her shoulder. “Willow, what’s wrong?”

“What if you die?” Willow rolled over to face her, eyes teary and lower lip trembling. It was times like this that Tara could see the frightened little girl in Willow, the one she so rarely got the chance to protect. Most of the time, it was Willow protecting her.

This inspired Tara. “I’m not going to die anytime soon. I have you to protect me.” She leaned forward, kissing Willow contentedly. Willow’s hands moved to grab the front of Tara’s top, pulling them so close that Tara couldn’t move without bumping into her. She wound an arm around Willow’s waist—

“…no, no kisses now,” Willow mumbled almost to herself, pulling away from Tara. “I need to think this over or it’ll worry me again and it’ll just get worse and spiral. Like a snowball! Or, um, get bigger like a snowball. I don’t know if snowballs—”

“Willow—”

“—spiral…” Willow trailed off, looking up at Tara.

“Willow, you’re sleepy and worried,” Tara reminded her. “It’ll be better in the morning, okay?” She threaded her fingers through Willow’s hair, but Willow pulled away.

“No, it _won’t,_ because I worry about it all the time.” Willow grabbed Tara’s hand, holding it to her chest. “What happens if you die? What do I do? I mean, there was that really nice guy in my class, Frank or Todd or something, and I saw Buffy stake him two nights ago. And we’re living in a crazy dangerous place, and some demon might eat you, or a vampire might turn you—”

“I _promise_ I will not get eaten by a demon, okay?” Tara informed her, unable to stop her amused smile.

“I’m not joking, Tara!” Willow’s voice was becoming louder, a little over regular speaking volume, which was unusual for most of their midnight conversations. “It’s scary here, and you’re sweet and wonderful, and sweet and wonderful things don’t live here, they just _die_ here, a-and—” Willow’s voice broke as she fell forward into Tara’s chest, sobbing.

“Oh, Willow,” Tara whispered. Her heart hurt.

“I-I don’t know what I’ll do i-if you die!”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Tara stroked Willow’s hair, holding her close.

“No, it’s not!” Willow looked up, face tear-streaked. “It _won’t_ be! What ha-happens if you die? I can’t, I—”

“Honey. I will not let anything eat me or turn me or stab me, okay?” Tara promised. “Okay?”

Willow looked doubtful.

“ _Okay?_ ” Tara placed a hand on Willow’s cheek.

“Okay,” Willow whispered, and a very small smile ghosted over her face before she leaned in and kissed Tara again. She tasted salty and wet. Tara kissed her until Willow’s tears were dry on her cheeks, and a little after for good measure.


	10. Giles/Jenny: Sensitive Subject

“I’m hoping you have a very good reason for the destruction of school property,” Principal Snyder said with smug authority, sitting down behind his desk.

It took Giles a moment to realize that Snyder (or, as Buffy and Xander referred to him, the annoying troll masquerading under the guise of a school principal) was referring to the computer, which had completely shorted out last night after binding Moloch to the robot. Ms. Calendar had examined it before dismally deeming it completely unusable. This then led to Giles saying that it was completely unusable in the first place, which led to a round of strangely friendly verbal sparring.

It had been a nice night.

After registering the trouble they were in, Giles looked very pointedly over at Ms. Calendar. Computers were _her_ terrain, and therefore she was better suited to handle this. Perhaps she could come up with a legitimate reason as to why the computer was so damaged.

“Um,” said Ms. Calendar. “We—” She bit her lip. “It’s a sensitive subject.”

“Ms. Calendar, as an employee of this school, you should be aware of the fact that these kinds of things can lead to heavy fines and possibly even arrests,” Snyder informed her. He seemed to be enjoying getting to tell someone off, bloody rodent.

“Actually, I don’t think people usually get arrested for—” Giles began, but was fixed with a deadly look from Snyder. This wasn’t what stopped him from talking, though; Ms. Calendar had elbowed him to shut him up.

“I understand,” persevered Ms. Calendar, “but—”

“ _Therefore,_ ” Principal Snyder talked over Ms. Calendar (which annoyed Giles immensely for a reason he couldn’t explain), “it’s your responsibility to explain exactly _how_ that computer was broken, or I’ll be forced to take legal action against the both of you.”

“Principal Snyder, honestly, the explanation we have isn’t something you’ll want to hear,” Ms. Calendar explained with surprising patience. She glanced over at Giles. “I have a point, don’t I?”

“Entirely,” Giles agreed. “We’ll both pay for the computer.”

Ms. Calendar smiled at him. Her smile was quite lovely without its usual sarcastic edge. “That’s nice of you,” she said quietly, the remark clearly not directed at Snyder. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” Giles gave her a brief smile in return. “It’s only fair. I did contribute greatly to the computer’s demise.”

“It is my _right_ as your supervisor to know what happens in this school!” Snyder interjected. “You two are in the wrong here!”

Ms. Calendar’s smile vanished, replaced by a determined look that evoked quite a lot of nervousness in Giles. He’d seen that look before, mostly when she was making a more risqué comment in the staff room or saying something with a conscious effort to offend. He only hoped that she wouldn’t say something like—

“Fine. You caught us.” Ms. Calendar turned to Snyder, staring him down. “We had sex in the library.”

Giles choked on air.

“It’s okay, Rupert.” Ms. Calendar hadn’t even giggled a little, which Giles would have found quite impressive if not for the fact that he was too stunned to think. “Principal Snyder said that it’s his right to know what happens in this school, so I’m telling him. We had sex up against the bookshelves, and in his office, and we were on the table when we knocked the computer down and it shorted out.” She smiled, saccharine-sweet, at Snyder. “I did say it was a…” Her fingers trailed casually up Giles’s forearm, and he had to fight back a shiver. “ _Sensitive_ subject. But hey, you kept on asking, and as my supervisor, I _have_ to explain things to you.”

Principal Snyder stared at them, seemingly frozen.

“In case you were wondering, it was mostly anger sex, but we’re thinking of hooking up in the counseling office again,” Ms. Calendar added. “All those comfy couches.”

Giles, who had barely managed to come back to earth, suddenly recalled that Principal Snyder had signed him up to manage the school talent show, and that shocking the exasperating man so completely was something that he quite wanted to be a part of. “Ms. Calendar, I was rather hoping that you would be more discreet about our illicit activities,” he said weakly, his astonishment now serving to only support her story.

He saw surprise flicker across Ms. Calendar’s face, but she masked it remarkably well before replying, “Hey, I’ve got a lot to brag about.” She gave him the once-over, gaze lingering on his mouth. Giles drew in a shuddering breath that wasn’t faked at all.

“Get out of my office,” said Snyder. His voice was shaking, but it wasn’t clear as to whether it was from shock or anger.

“Happy to oblige,” Giles agreed, and stood up. Ms. Calendar stood up with him, and they walked out arm in arm.

As soon as the doors shut, Giles turned to her, unable to think of anything he could possibly say.

Ms. Calendar grinned at him. “And _that,_ ” she said, “is how you shut him up.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Giles, and found himself grinning back.


	11. Buffy/Faith: Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That kind-of canonical couple I mentioned.

Love was one of those things that Faith was pretty sure someone made up because they wanted to feel better about the world. They were making out with this guy or this girl and they thought, “Hey, what if there’s a deeper meaning to everything? What if I love this person because they’re good and sweet and they make me smile? What if I want to make the world better for this person?” And they called it love because they didn’t know what lust was back then.

That was Faith’s theory, and she stuck by it until she showed up in Sunnydale, and there was this teensy little blonde girl who wore a lot of pink. The first time she looked into Buffy Summers’s eyes, she thought, _oh shit._ She covered it up, like always. You’d have to be looking pretty hard to figure out who Faith thought was hot. She’d made an art out of being a mystery.

B was drop-dead gorgeous, but she was straight as an arrow. You’d have to be blind to not catch the way she mooned over Angel. Today she was giggling over how sweet Angel was and how much she was looking forward to Valentine’s Day with him, and it was just so _fucking annoying_ that Faith wanted to punch her in the face.

There was this other part of Faith that wanted to kiss her until the only name on Buffy’s lips was hers, but she’d written it off as a new kind of lust. B was the first (and most likely the only) Slayer she’d ever met; it was obvious that Faith was just attracted to the kind of _power_ they’d have together.

But being attracted to power wouldn’t make Faith notice Buffy’s hair, which shone in the morning sunlight. The sun was streaming through the windows of the library (that was the thing about California, it was sunny even in February) and it made Buffy’s hair even more bright, golden-yellowy and ethereal. She had it up in a twist, tendrils falling and framing her face. She looked like a princess, something Faith knew she could never pull off.

It was amazing how innocent Buffy still was. Her boyfriend had lost his soul and gone crazy on the town, but she still had the most beautiful smile that Faith had ever seen. Giles made some offhanded comment to Buffy as he passed with a book in hand, and Buffy retorted with a grin. Faith didn’t catch the words because she was listening to the cadence of Buffy’s voice, the curve of her lips.

She’d perfected a bored expression to adopt for times like these, and when Buffy turned to look at her, Faith was given a sympathetic smile and some cheerful remark about everyone else getting here in a few minutes. Then Buffy turned away and Faith remembered that love was stupid and crushes were even worse.

* * *

 She was extra hard on Buffy during sparring that day.


	12. Xander/Anya: Once A Demon

“I never really understood the reasoning behind shaping hearts like this,” said Anya, holding up a heart-shaped doily before taping it to the Magic Box counter. Xander gave her a funny look, and she elaborated, “It’s not anatomically accurate. It would probably be _more_ romantic if it was anatomically accurate, because it would be an adequate representation of what’s inside your chest. So giving this to someone would mean giving them your heart in a slightly more literal sense.”

“Ahn, it’s a human thing,” Xander replied with an affectionately condescending smile as he hurried past to start on stringing up heart-shaped lights.

Anya didn’t mind it when he said things like that. She really didn’t. He had a point, after all. She wasn’t human, and she hadn’t been human in a very long time, which was why she needed Xander to steer her in the right direction.

Her demon self (the one with the wisdom, the one that understood women and their pain) was something she’d discarded and ignored, because that’s what Xander had done, and Xander was better at being normal and human than any of the other Scoobies. Giles and Willow and Tara were magic dabblers, and Buffy was a superhuman, and Spike was a vampire, and Xander was just your average Joe, which wasn’t something Anya had quite a lot of experience with.

And if this thing with Xander didn’t work out (she’d seen plenty of perfectly wonderful relationships fall apart in an awful, bloody mess), she had to know how to make the average Joes like her. Because without Xander, there would be no Scoobies. Being tactless didn’t make Anya an idiot; she saw Giles’s little eye rolls and heard Willow’s muttered comments to Buffy. They wouldn’t put up with her for longer than a few months before she would start getting left out of discussions—that is, assuming that she even came to Scooby meetings anymore.

Anya sometimes felt a little jealous of Spike, because the Scoobies were very up-front about the way they felt about _him._ It was always “go away, Spike” or “you’re an evil demon, Spike” and when he’d try to defend himself, someone (Xander) would say something like “Once a demon, always a demon.”

She suspected that they’d forgotten that she was a demon. They didn’t treat her like they would Anyanka, patron saint of scorned woman, observer of a thousand years of human history. They treated her like ditzy, rude, pesky Anya, Magic Box employee and Xander’s fiancée.

She hadn’t always been human, but she had a pretty face and she gave Xander nice hugs and she hadn’t tried to kill one of them, so she fit the Scooby bill.

She didn’t know if she liked fitting the Scooby bill. Xander listened to what she had to say sometimes, usually when they were alone, but around his friends and in public he treated her like either an annoyance or a pet that had to be patted on the head to keep it happy.

“Hey, you okay?” she heard Xander ask, and then she felt his fingertips on her chin, gently lifting her face up to look him in the eye. “What’s going down in Anya-town?” Dark, warm eyes, fluffy dark hair, smile sugar-sweet and playful. Everything about him made Anya feel like she’d eaten too much candy, like she should have just stopped earlier when it was still good.

“I’m fine,” Anya replied, and forced a smile, which was enough for Xander to give her a quick peck before heading back to work on decorating the shop.

God, she was a moron. Seeing flaws in Xander, who was wonderful and good and probably the best she was going to get.

Still a man, though.

“Once a demon, always a demon,” she mumbled to herself, and taped down another doily.


	13. Scoobies: The First (Real) Time We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day, all! And yeah, I'm late with these again. I'm sorry. This one is less canon-ish (although it could be canon if you squint) and the next one isn't canon at all, which means that there's a lot of happy fluff. What else is Valentine's Day for?

1

“Oh!” Sheila Rosenberg huffed indignantly before tapping on the other woman’s shoulder. “Ma’am, you cut me in line.”

The woman turned around, and Sheila had to roll her eyes. She was young, but the little girl in her arms looked to be Willow’s age. No doubt one of those irresponsible girls running amok and getting knocked up. “I’m so sorry,” she replied, voice shaking, “but you see, my husband, he needs me back in the car soon, and I just have a few—” She held up her shopping basket, shifting her baby to her hip.

Willow, seated in the shopping cart, babbled her version of hello and reached in the general direction of the other girl, who gave her a big smile in response.

“You’re lucky it was me,” Sheila muttered. “ _Most_ women wouldn’t let you do this kind of thing.”

The little girl reached out to Willow. Sheila was tempted to pick Willow up and pull her away, but Willow had actually somehow managed to clamber out of the little kiddie seat and into the basket of the shopping cart, reaching out to touch the little girl’s hand.

“Wi-o!” she informed her peer in introduction. Sheila felt a surge of pride. _Her_ little girl was smart.

“Tara,” the other girl replied with perfect enunciation, and when Sheila glanced up at the mother, she was smiling without pride, but with adoration. Mothers like _that_ weren’t going to instill the kind of diligence that their daughters needed. It didn’t matter _how_ smart this Tara girl was, she wasn’t going to be someone Willow would want to associate with.

* * *

 

2

“Shouldn’t be out at night,” Spike informed the little girl, kneeling in front of her and trying to make himself look sympathetic. She smelled appetizing. His mouth was practically watering.

“My mommy says I gotta go straight home so I won’t be out too late,” the girl explained, “but I wanted a snack.” Then, cocking her head, “Why’s your hair so yellow?”

This threw Spike off. He’d bleached his hair in a hotel ten minutes ago, and dyeing was a little hard without a reflection or Drusilla to help him out. They’d had a bit of a spat, and he didn’t want to come in looking like a moron because he’d somehow managed to dye his hair instead of bleach it.

“Er,” he said. “How yellow is it?” He reached up, trying to smooth it down.

“Like the sunshine!” the girl informed him cheerfully. “It’s white and yellow. It looks pretty. I wish my hair looked like that.”

“Buffy!” called a voice, and Spike saw a woman in her late thirties hurrying up to the pair. “ _Buffy Summers,_ I _told_ you to come straight home after skating lessons! I drove all around town looking for you!” She turned her steely glare in Spike’s direction, and he decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble to eat this girl _and_ her mother. He wasn’t feeling like dinner; he’d just wanted a snack.

He turned around and skulked off, forgetting all about it when he got back and found Drusilla in tears. She’d been afraid he had left her for good, and he promised her that he would _never._ She started babbling on about the sunlight and the Slayer and how it was written in stone now, but he silenced her with his kisses. It was the best thing to do when she was talking nonsense.

* * *

 

3

“Hi,” said the boy. He was eleven, with dark hair a tired look about him. Anyanka remembered his mother, vaguely, the one who had wished that her husband would never be happy. She would hate the boy when he grew to be a man (and most likely ended up hurting some poor woman), but he was a child right now, and even she wasn’t that convinced of male stupidity to hate a child like him.

Anyanka inclined her head in response. She wasn’t interested in conversation. All through the world, women were crying out for her attention.

“Do you have a dollar?” the boy asked.

“I’m sorry?” Anyanka turned to stare at him. This wasn’t the usual inquiry towards her. Mostly, people were either asking her to eviscerate someone or begging her to stop eviscerating them.

“I wanna get my friend Jesse something special for Valentine’s Day,” the boy replied. “He likes candy, but I don’t have a dollar to get him a Kit Kat or something. Do you have one?” He looked apologetic and shy.

“I suppose.” Anyanka pretended to dig in her wallet while she created a dollar out of thin air. “Here you are, little boy,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “I wish you luck in your Valentine’s Day endeavors!”

The boy smiled at her, a little goofy. Anyanka uncertainly smiled back. It was the first time in a very long time that a male had smiled at her. He was sweet, for a little boy. Perhaps he wouldn’t be a heartbreaker after all.

* * *

 

4

Jenny was scooping ice cream at the late shift of her job at Baskin-Robbins when she just kind of lost it and started to cry over the bubblegum-mint-fudge or whatever the hell it was. She was generally really against crying, because it was a waste of time, and time was more important than ever nowadays, but she’d just realized that senior prom was tonight. She’d been _so_ busy trying to raise enough money for college tuition and keeping her grades up and working odd jobs that she’d forgotten about senior prom.

And it wasn’t like she _cared_ about senior prom—honestly, it was just a popularity contest, and she’d much rather be at home working on writing programs—but the fact that she hadn’t even gotten the option to consider was what really made her miserable.

Jenny sobbed, trying in vain to pull herself together, and it was then that the little bell on the door jingled. She looked up, wiping her nose on her sleeve and feeling ridiculously like a little kid. Not even her _parents_ had seen her cry over her job and her grades. Heck, she hadn’t cried about her job and her grades since freshman year.

It was a guy with brownish hair, wearing a dorky button-down shirt and vest. His glasses made him look older than he was—Jenny would hazard a guess at mid-thirties. She was all prepared for him to ask (in that annoying way that strangers did) if she was all right and did she want to talk about it, but instead, he gave her a sympathetic smile, took out his wallet, and put a twenty in the tip jar before heading out.

It pissed Jenny off. Who was he to just give money to some loser seventeen-year-old in a Baskin-Robbins? She had to _work_ for the money she earned, and she didn’t like that he was paying her for looking pretty while she cried. “You know,” she called, still sniffling a little, “you can’t just fix everything with money.”

The guy turned around, looking at her with a new sort of respect. His smile curved upwards and became one of admiration. “No,” he replied in a British accent, “I don’t suppose you can.” He inclined his head to her. “I suspect you’ll go far,” he told her, and then he was gone.

“You don’t know a thing!” Jenny called after him, and found herself too pissed off to cry about senior prom anymore.


	14. AU Scoobies: Happy Valentine's Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone lived. Set a few years after Chosen. Happy Valentine's Day (again)!

“Post-apocalyptic Valentine’s Day bash!” Willow shrieked, picking up Tara bridal-style, losing her balance, and crashing down onto Giles and Jenny, who had been cuddled up on the couch. “Oops!” she giggled, rolling off of the adults and onto the floor. “Sorry.”

Tara remained lying awkwardly on Giles and Jenny’s laps before the latter cleared her throat and said with amused pointedness, “Willow, as much as I like Tara, I think she’d probably to be on the lap of the woman she married last week.”

Willow continued to giggle on the floor, and Tara seemed to come back to herself, clambering off of the couple and kneeling down next to her wife. “She’s totally drunk,” she informed them with an apologetic smile.

“What, _really_?” said Spike sarcastically. “I hadn’t noticed. Ow!” he added, and hit Buffy back. “I was being _sarcastic!_ ”

“I know,” Buffy replied. “I don’t appreciate it.” She walloped him again.

“Kindly don’t destroy my house, Spike, Buffy,” Giles called. “Jenny rather likes that ancient vase you’re having your tussle next to.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” Jenny stood up, shoving Giles to the side, and deftly stepped over Willow as she flew across the room to attempt to pull Spike and Buffy apart. This did basically nothing, as Jenny was no match for a Slayer and a vampire, but she still seemed to be putting a lot of effort into it. “No you are _not_ hurting my vase. Rupert and I got that in China. _Stop_ that.”

“Jenny, don’t do that,” Xander said tentatively. It wasn’t usually wise to mess with Jenny when she was in Determined Technopagan Mode. “They could backhand you into a wall or something.”

“Neither of you get the chocolate Rupert and I got for all of you!” Jenny said very loudly.

Spike and Buffy immediately stopped fighting.

“With the nougaty bits?” Spike asked, sounding quite upset.

“See what you did!” Buffy got up from her spot next to Spike and sat down on the floor near Willow. “You see what he did?” she complained.

“Nougaty,” Willow repeated, and giggled more before sitting up. “I’m okay,” she added to Giles, wrapping her arms around Tara and bestowing a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Tara laughed.

Meanwhile, Spike was doing his best to shrink into his coat while Jenny lectured him in her most foreboding high-school-teacher voice about how _much_ trouble he was in and how not even Valentine’s Day was going to save him now and how he’d better not even _think_ about doing anything even _slightly_ shifty because she wouldn’t hesitate to decapitate him with Buffy’s new machete.

Giles was watching her the same way Spike watched Buffy when she was fighting. Buffy noticed this and wrinkled her nose. “Ew,” she said. “Giles, could you _not?_ ”

At Buffy’s words, Jenny turned around, noticed the look in Giles’s eyes, said to Spike, “Don’t think we’re done here, mister,” and strode purposefully over to her husband, taking his hand and pulling him outside.

“Are they kissing?” Xander asked, sounding like he couldn’t decide whether to be uncomfortable, amused, or annoyed.

Giles staggered past the window with Jenny’s arms wrapped around his neck.

“Okay, all of you are just rubbing your married status in my face,” Xander protested. “I’m _trying_ with Anya, and it’s going kind of badly—”

“Xander, you left her at the altar.” Buffy walked back over to Spike, sitting down next to him. “Ever heard the saying ‘once bitten, twice shy?’”

“I thought it was ‘once burned, twice dead,’” Spike commented. At the strange looks he received, he shrugged nonchalantly. “Must have been a vampire thing.” To Xander, he added, “S’not like I’m married to Buffy, though.”

“You guys live together,” Xander countered. “It’s annoying.”

“Hey, we’re not the ones making out outside because we CAN’T KEEP IT IN OUR PANTS!” Buffy shouted, cupping her hands over her mouth.

The noises from outside abruptly stopped.

“Fair point,” Xander agreed.

Giles came back in, dragging Jenny by the hand and looking both disheveled and annoyed. “For one thing, she _jumped_ me,” he replied indignantly. “For another, we were _not_ going to shag in the bushes. And also—”

“Honey, you have lipstick on your mouth,” Jenny cut in. “Kind of destroys the whole self-righteous I’m-not-a-sex-maniac tirade you were on.” She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at Giles’s mouth.

“And she even carries an _handkerchief!_ ” Xander complained. “How lovey-dovey is that?”

“It’s not lovey-dovey,” Jenny replied. “It’s five years of marriage. He won’t let me do it with a paper towel because he’s fussy.”

“See, I don’t have that to deal with,” Buffy teased, and gave Spike an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. He ducked his head in an obvious attempt to hide his almost comically dorky smile.

“I’m gonna call Anya and complain about you all,” Xander said suddenly, with a wide grin. “That counts as platonic, right? I mean, I get to talk to her.”

“If it makes you happy, be with her,” said Willow sagely before going back to playing with Tara’s hair.

“What she said,” Tara agreed, and kissed Willow on the cheek.

Xander hurried past his friends, taking out his cell phone once he was outside.

“Hey, Ahn,” he said as soon as he’d finished dialing. “Yeah, it’s me. I just…” He hesitated, than said breathlessly, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”


End file.
